


tonight i feel so make believe.

by redhoods



Series: the closest we'll get to heaven sent. [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fake Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 18:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: They’ve talked this out, figured it out, planned for the plan to go wrong somewhere along the line. Not here though, this is getting them on the line. This is the easy part, step one, child’s play.He’s done this before.Accountant, servant, slave, it’s become a familiar rote.But then he makes his first of what he’s sure will be many mistakes of the evening, he looks over at Caleb.





	tonight i feel so make believe.

**Author's Note:**

> TRAVIS, GIVE US THE FJORD LORE GODDAMMIT MAN. 
> 
> someone in the discord server said fake married and me, immediately "YES". there's not enough of it in this fandom when they've got the perfect set up for it at all times.
> 
> also this quickly got a way from me and devolved into Everyone realizing that fjord is very subby. whatever, i'm not sorry, it's long been canon.
> 
> i'll probably drop the smut at some point, since i know y'all are probably interested in that.
> 
> the title comes from i feel it all over by the maine. as usual, this is not beta'd.

“And who is this then?”

 _If this woman stuck her nose any higher in the air_ , Fjord thought, but they have a plan. They’ve talked this out, figured it out, planned for the plan to go wrong somewhere along the line. Not here though, this is getting them on the line. This is the easy part, step one, child’s play.

He’s done this before.

Accountant, servant, slave, it’s become a familiar rote.

But then he makes his first of what he’s sure will be many mistakes of the evening, he looks over at Caleb.

Caleb’s not even looking at him, scanning the woman in the sort of way that tends to make people uncomfortable, though she seems unbothered with all her disdain directed at Fjord. It’s probably for the better though, because he can’t see how Fjord’s looking at him.

He looks _good_. Really good. Handsome, even.

It’s not a new revelation for Fjord. Caleb’s always been handsome, under all the dirt and muck, and occasionally, sometimes, with the dirt. It’s a thing that he doesn’t dwell on, sky is blue, grass is green, Caleb is handsome. 

But now? He’d let Jester and Marion have their way. Fjord hadn’t been allowed in the room while it’d gone on, Beau and Caduceus doing their best to make him look presentable to his own right while Nott had flitted between the rooms, cackling like a mad person.

He’d nearly swallowed his tongue when he’d first seen Caleb.

His hair is brushed back, pulled into an actual ponytail at the back, little strands falling down in his face. His beard is trimmed and neat, his throat bare save for the high collar of the coat he’s got on. It’s a nice coat, cut to Caleb in a way that accentuates his slim waist, rather than give way to how thin he really is. 

And the pants. 

It’s probably for the best he can’t see those at this angle.

Fjord looks back to the woman, opens his giant, gods damned mouth, _”This is Caleb, my business partner”_ , and instead what comes out is, “This is Caleb, my husband.”

Gods.

He’d rather be anywhere else in this very moment.

At the bottom of the ocean, under the tunnels of the mountains, in the Gentleman’s tavern.

 _Anywhere_.

The woman actually seems startled though, her chin dipping as she stares at the two of them.

Fjord is half expecting to take a dagger between the ribs, because he knows Caleb has one, had seen Nott give it to him, but instead, a hand presses against his abdomen, spread wide as Caleb leans against his side, chin digging against the meat of his shoulder.

He determinedly does not look at Caleb, simply juts his chin at the woman, as if daring her to challenge him on it.

“Is there a problem?” Caleb’s voice is very smooth, like he’s not experiencing the same internal crisis that Fjord currently is.

She sniffs, “I just didn’t see any rings.”

There’s an almighty gong in Fjord’s head, that curling sense of dread climbing up his throat, but fingers dig into his back and when did Caleb get his hand back there, how did he miss that? Fjord swallows thickly, prepared to open his mouth again, but once again, Caleb saves his ass.

“We went a more... traditional route,” he says, again, voice smooth and even, and Fjord really could kiss him now.

Her eyebrow lifts, “Traditional?”

Fjord grins at her, all teeth and new tusks.

She blinks then clears her throat, red high on her cheeks, and before she can check herself, her eyes drop to where the collar of Caleb’s coat is hiding the base of his throat. It takes a second, then two, three, four, Fjord counts to nine before she nods and steps to the side, “Very well, you may enter, Lord -”

“Widogast,” Fjord interjects, sliding his arm over Caleb’s shoulders.

She nods again, “You will be introduced as such then.”

Shit.

Gods dammit.

He’d forgotten about that part.

Caleb’s fingers dig into his side, his arm around Fjord’s back now, _under_ his coat, and Fjord’s not thinking about that as he leads them into the chateau, while the woman whispers furiously to the servant that’s been waiting patiently for them.

The servant inclines his head to her then turns to the both of them, “This way, my lords.”

Another servant takes his place as he turns and leads them through the entrance way. Fjord keeps his eyes ahead, trusting Caleb to make note of all the things they pass along the way. They make two turns before they’re standing in front of a set of grand double doors covered in gold filigree.

“Here we are,” the servant says and Fjord takes that as his cue to suck in a deep breath, before the man is pushing open the double doors.

He steps in first, out onto the top of a grand staircase, overlooking the ballroom. Fjord can’t see down into it from this vantage point, but he knows that Beau and Jester are both in there somewhere mingling with the guests, and that Caduceus is disguised as a waiter somewhere.

He’s not sure where Nott is, but he’s desperately praying she’s not in there.

The servant speaks to a finely dressed man, who turns a critical gaze to the two of them before nodding and looking out over the ballroom.

Caleb is the one to press them forward to the top of the staircase, and they’ve taken two steps down when the man announces, “Presenting Lord and Lord Widogast.”

Fjord isn’t sure if he’s imagining it or not, but he’s pretty sure he hears Beau spit take somewhere in the ballroom. He doesn’t look to investigate, too busy focusing on taking the steps one at a time. Last thing he needs is to fall and take Caleb down with him.

About halfway down the stairs, Caleb snorts softly and says, “Nott says you owe her a heavy dowry.”

Fjord groans.

They make it down the stairs without any further incident and Fjord lets himself be lead across the ballroom to a table. At some point, Caleb snags a flute of something off a passing tray and hands it over without word. Any other time, Fjord would pass it up in favor of focus but he takes it and downs it in one go.

As soon as he sinks into a chair at a table in the back, Beau is there.

She looks good too, polished in a way she usually isn’t, not that Fjord’s going to tell her any of that, but the pants and coat she’d found makes her look older and refined.

Jester isn’t far behind her, a sight to behold in her gown, shimmering lavender under all the chandelier light. She’s grinning so hard that Fjord half expects her face to split as she takes a chair across from him.

“What happened to the plan, man?” Beau demands, taking the seat next to Jester. She certainly looks the part of body guard and Fjord wishes he’d vyed for that position harder.

He presses a hand to his face.

“Later, we are being watched,” it’s Caleb and he sounds much closer than Fjord expects him to be.

It takes effort to not immediately lift his head and look for the source of Caleb’s concern, but he does look to see where Caleb’s taken up position and finds that he’s drawn his chair as close to Fjord’s as he can get it, their chairs actually touching.

Jester is still smiling as she leans across the table towards them, “You two look so handsome,” she says and Fjord can feel his cheeks get hot.

A hand brushes between his shoulder blades, then flattens there, comforting pressure more than anything, “It seems our introduction did as was planned,” Caleb says, voice low near Fjord’s ear, like he could be murmuring sweet nothings and not reassurances that their plan hasn’t been fucked seven ways by his simple slip.

Across the table, Beau makes a retching sound, “Well, you certainly look the part,” she mutters.

Fjord drapes his arm across the back of Caleb’s chair.

“Come on, Beau, we have other people to see,” Jester says suddenly, standing up. She winks at them before she turns in disappears in a twirl of purple fabric.

Beau watches her go and Fjord lifts an eyebrow at her when she looks back at them. He can tell she wants to call him out or make a rude gesture or both, but she huffs instead and stands to follow in Jester’s wake.

It’s on them now.

All Fjord and Caleb have to do is keep some attention on them and be ready for when things inevitably go sideways.

Caleb does not lean away, “Stop panicking,” he orders, voice firm and soft.

Fjord takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.

“Gut,” there’s a moment where Fjord thinks Caleb is going to lean away, but he doesn’t, keeping himself pressed against Fjord’s side like he belongs there. “We have garnered a lot of attention from that entrance,” he carries on, like he’s not ruining Fjord bit by bit, “It was a good improvisation.”

Trying not to grimace, Fjord presses his fingers to Caleb’s shoulder, “I’ll take your word for that.”

Caleb stiffens next to him and Fjord thinks he’s done something wrong, but then Caleb turns his head, his nose actually brushing Fjord’s jaw, “Ja, all is well here. I just saw Beauregard leave,” and Fjord realizes it’s not directed at him.

Must be Nott.

Fjord has no idea how Caleb is keeping an eye on all of this happening, but he takes another breath and scans the ballroom. Their target is almost to the otherside of the room, but in plain line of sight from the table they’re at. His wife is on his left side and his companion is at his other.

Is the male word for mistress just mister? He meant to ask Jester about all that.

“I think she’s contemplating stabbing him with her dinner knife,” Caleb says conversationally and Fjord watches the woman’s hand flex in the direction of her knife, her focus on her husband.

He snorts softly.

A woman approaches them, elven and elegant and tall. Her smile is warm, seemingly genuine to Fjord’s eyes, though Caleb’s fingers press into his back. He’s not sure if it’s reassurance or warning, but he smiles at her and nods when she gestures to the chair that Jester had just vacated.

“Hallo,” Caleb says next to him.

She turns her gaze to him, “Good evening,” her voice is very lightly accented and Fjord knows that she’s from the coast immediately, “I simply wanted to come say hello and maybe learn some things,” she carries on, looking between the two of them. “I have never seen the two of you at one of the events and you’re causing quite the stir.”

Fjord huffs a soft laugh and she looks over her shoulder to a table of other woman clustered together, all looking in their direction. He offers them a half wave with the hand not on Caleb’s shoulder and they all start whispering to each other.

There’s a moment, then Caleb says, voice back to the smooth, even polish that drips charm in a way that Fjord isn’t even sure he’s capable of anymore, “It’s a pleasure. I’m Caleb, this is my husband, Fjord.” He says it so easily, like it simply is.

“That’s a very interesting accent you have,” she says, her voice lifting like she might be asking.

Inclining his head, Fjord squeezes Caleb’s shoulder gently, “He’s from the Zemni fields,” he answers, Vandren’s accent giving way to his own true accent. Caleb shifts under his hand.

That piques her interest though, her eyebrows lifting in surprise, “You sound like you’re quite a ways away from home yourself, Fjord.”

Shit.

Resolving to let Caleb do the rest of the talking for the evening, Fjord nods, “I am.”

Caleb’s eyes are on him, he can feel it.

“I, myself, am from Port Zoon,” she says calmly, like she hasn’t notice Caleb’s intense focus or she’s choosing to ignore it, “I can’t say as though I’ve ever left the Coast, but perhaps one day, I have time,” she smiles.

Fjord wonders if her time is centuries. It’s hard to tell with elves.

She’s asking without asking though and Caleb is still staring at him.

He swallows, “I come from a very different coast,” he hasn’t told anyone this yet, not even Jester, and it feels terrible for it to be coming out here, like this. He knows Caleb won’t make a big deal of it, but it still takes monumental effort not to look at him when he adds, “From Tal’Dorei.”

This takes the woman by surprise and she says back than forward, even more interested, “Tal’Dorei, you say?” She presses a hand to her chest, “Fascinating.”

There’s a moment where Fjord thinks she’s going to ask questions, but there’s a commotion from the side of the room and then the music starts, the band taking its place on the small dias that Fjord hadn’t noticed before.

She smiles at the both of them as she stands, “It’s been a pleasure, gentleman, I suppose I’ll leave you to your evening,” she waves a hand towards the dance floor, “Maybe I’ll see you out there. Enjoy.” She turns then and ventures back to her own table and Fjord realizes he never asked her name.

To his credit, Caleb waits until she’s back to her own table before hissing near his ear, “Tal’Dorei?”

Fjord shrugs.

“That’s a very long way from Port Damali, Fjord,” he carries on, under his own steam now and Fjord rubs his thumb back and forth over the material of Caleb’s coat, “Any other secrets you’re keeping?” Caleb pulls away though, shifting back in his seat, his gaze hard as flint and Fjord meets his gaze head on.

He sounds upset. Very upset, though Fjord can’t parse out why. They all have their secrets. Caleb stays quiet though and Fjord realizes that most of their secrets are in the open now. 

It’d never felt important to talk about where he was from though, not when his family was here with him.

“I’m not keeping any other secrets,” he says, rather than defend himself, “Promise,” he holds his scarred palm up in Caleb’s direction. Caleb looks down at his hand then back to him, eyes narrowed, before pressing his own scarred palm down, linking their fingers together like it’s natural.

“You better not be, Fjord.”

His eyebrow lifts at Caleb, but his gaze is still hard, his jaw set, and Fjord ducks his head, chin to his chest, “I’m not, Caleb, you know everything else.”

Caleb’s other hand cups around his neck and pulls him in so their foreheads touch, “We’re being watched again,” he says, very, very close, his lips brushing Fjord’s, “I’m not sure if it’s me or you.”

“I’d say both of you,” a voice says suddenly, next to them, calm and lazy, and Caduceus.

Fjord very carefully doesn’t startle, though he leans back to peer up at the unassuming waiter that Caduceus has disguised himself as, the bright pink flower in his lapel that none of the other servants has, “Is that your very perceptive opinion?”

There’s a hum, “More insightful, I think,” then Caduceus nods and offers them a tray of drinks.

Caleb snags two and watches Caduceus wander off before turning back to him and offering him one of the flutes, “That’s interesting,” he says.

“Is it?” Fjord inclines his glass at Caleb and then takes a sip, pretending not to notice Caleb’s attention on the line of his throat.

“Mm, ja, it will be easier to keep his attention,” Caleb says and then fingers are curling around his neck, nails scraping through the shorn hair on the back of his head and Fjord is pretty certain he’s not going to survive the night.

Caleb’s watching him over the top of his own glass and Fjord takes another large sip of his drink.

Damn him.

There are eyes on them though, Fjord can feel it and he flicks his gaze briefly to Caleb, then away to where their target is. He’s only half expecting to meet their target’s gaze when he does, so it’s easy to mask his surprise in favor of a quirk of an eyebrow and a small smirk in the man’s direction.

Nails press in just a little and Fjord turns his gaze back to Caleb, touching his tongue briefly to his lower lip, “Yes, dear?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Caleb says low, but he’s grinning. It’s not _not_ doing things for Fjord.

“Ugh gross,” Beau is suddenly there, draping herself down into one of the chairs across from them. Fjord startles, but Caleb doesn’t, simply turning an unimpressed glance in her direction. It’s truly like watching siblings interact.

Fjord lifts an eyebrow at her, “And where’s your lady for the night?” 

She quashes another rude gesture under her arm, “She wasn’t feeling very well, too much drink,” she says, bored, like she’s telling them about the weather. The apathy works well for maintaining their story though.

“That’s a shame, she was much more palatable,” Caleb says with a sly grin.

Beau sneers at him, rocking her chair back on two legs.

Fjord clears his throat, “Now, now, children, play nicely,” and regrets it near immediately when Caleb’s nails press in, just at the base of his skull. There’s no masking the shudder that runs through him though and Beau makes a disgusted sound across from them.

“I’m going to puke all over your fancy clothes if I have to keep witnessing this,” she says, scowling.

Caleb’s grin is saccharine and Fjord is not going to live to see tomorrow, “Consider it recompense,” and his nails are now scratching up and down the back of Fjord’s neck in a lazy, maddening drag, “for all the time we’ve had to spend watching you moon over Yasha,” there’s a beat, “and Jester.”

Beau splutters immediately and her chair hits the floor with a loud clatter that’s barely masked by the band.

Fjord has definitely missed something, but he’s not going to ask when Beau is glaring at Caleb like that.

“Nott is waiting for you,” Caleb says.

“Fuck you,” Beau says.

She doesn’t wait for a response, pushing up from the chair and practically storming off. A waiter yelps and leaps out of her way.

Caleb laughs next to him then, this low sound that punches Fjord in the gut.

“Now that wasn’t very nice of her,” Caduceus says suddenly from behind him and Fjord swears colorfully.

“Caleb was provoking her,” Fjord comments, tipping his head back to peer at Caduceus, but he’s already moving on to another table. He wonders how much Caduceus has learned just by being in the right place at the right time.

Suddenly, Caleb is moving, pushing his chair back and standing, his hand leaving Fjord’s neck. Fjord glances up at him in askance, eyebrows lifting. This angle is doing terrible things to him though, Caleb’s knees bumping his with how close they are. “Come dance with me,” Caleb says then, offering his scarred palm.

Fjord swallows thickly and takes his hand, levering himself out of his chair and right into Caleb’s space. Feeling brave and daring and hoping they’ve got attention, he ducks his head to press his lips to the corner of Caleb’s mouth before stepping back.

Caleb says nothing, simply curls their fingers together and pulls him from the table, leading him towards the dance floor.

It’s full of couples, mostly swaying in lazy circles, but some of them are properly dancing. Fjord’s not sure which Caleb is expecting from him, but he’s really hoping it’s the lazy circles. 

“I’ll lead, stop looking so terrified,” Caleb says, pulling him to a stop only a little ways into the crowd, still in view of their mark for the night. Fjord nods as he steps in closer, letting Caleb adjust him as he pleases, and then they’re moving.

Caleb taps the steps against his shoulder and back at the same time, pressing him gently as he leads him in simple sweeping steps, “Not so bad, ja?”

Fjord nods, trying not to stare down at their feet, “You’re very good at this, Caleb.”

“I’ve had practice,” Caleb says and turns him very suddenly, so Fjord can see their mark approaching. At first, Fjord thinks he’s alone, but then he sees the man’s wife a few steps behind him, her chin raised. The other couple stops only a few feet from them and Fjord meets the man’s gaze with a sharp grin.

Caleb turns him again though, some sense of timing in his head that Fjord will never understand.

“I thought the idea was to keep his attention?” Fjord asks, when Caleb keeps him turned away, knowing that Caleb himself can’t see the man at this angle, with Fjord between them.

There’s a minute where Fjord thinks Caleb’s ignoring him, but Caleb comes in closer, so they’re pressed together, thighs to hips to chest, even though it stalls their movements, “Stop making it so easy,” Caleb says, very low, words tucked against Fjord’s jaw and throat, “You’re supposed to be married to me.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Fjord blinks and Caleb doesn’t move away, so they end up swaying on the spot now. It takes him several tries to get his mouth to work for him before he says, “Are you _jealous_ , Caleb?”

Nails dig into his neck and it’s not fair that Caleb has figured him out so fast, but he presses his claws into Caleb’s side, coat and shirt be damned. Caleb doesn’t flinch or so much as react, but Fjord certainly has all of his attention now.

The song ends.

Fjord pulls away before he does something else stupid, turning to the direction of their table. He doesn’t check to see if Caleb’s following him and despite wanting to, doesn’t scoop himself another drink as he sinks into the chair he’d vacated earlier.

After a few beats of stretched time, a hand presses to his shoulder, then slides down to press flat over his chest, a chest pressing to his back, a chin digging into his shoulder, “And if I was jealous?” Caleb’s voice is very low, but he’s not trying to hide the words this time and Fjord isn’t sure if it’s show or if Caleb simply doesn’t care.

Before he can respond though, Caleb presses on, “Come, liebling, I need some air.” He pulls away all at once, which is good, because Fjord is already standing, body moving before his mind processes.

He’s learning too much about himself tonight.

Caleb is already cutting through the crowd and Fjord follows him like he’s a string tied between the two of them. He’s expecting Caleb to lead him outside, to the doors that lead out into the estate’s garden, but Caleb leads him out of the ballroom into the rest of the estate instead.

No one tries to stop them.

They make out of the ballroom and down the vast hallway they’re in, around several corners before a hand on his chest presses him back against a wall, “He’s following us,” Caleb says low, then he’s pressing in close, “The others are almost done, just a few more minutes,” he adds, the words brushing against Fjord’s jaw.

Fjord only sort of hears him, his hands sliding down to Caleb’s hips, his blood pounding in his ears, “What are we doing?”

Caleb laughs lowly and his head tips a little in the direction the came, and Fjord strains for a second, but he can hear the footsteps coming from around the corner. A hand curls around his neck and drags him down and Caleb’s mouth slots against his.

It takes nothing for him to surge into it, fingers tightening on Caleb’s hips, drawing him flush.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when Caleb eases back a little, “Turn us around,” he says, their lips still brushing. Fjord doesn’t have to be told twice, turning them swiftly, pressing Caleb back against the wall.

“Gut,” Caleb says against his mouth and Fjord shudders despite himself. Caleb’s arms drape across his shoulders and one of his legs hitches up around Fjord’s hips. This time, Caleb doesn’t have to tell him what to do, he slides his palms down around Caleb’s thighs and lifts him up, leveraging him up against the wall.

Caleb’s fingers dig into his hair, pushing his head down and Fjord goes with it, mouth dragging over the scruff on Caleb’s jaw and then to the small space of skin not covered by his collar.

He barely hears the footsteps as they draw closer, not over the blood pounding in his ears and the thundering of Caleb’s heart very close to his ear. “Cay,” he says quietly, mouth just pressed against Caleb’s throat.

A finger traces the tip of his ear, “Be good, Fjord, we have to go back in there,” Caleb’s voice is a little louder now, carrying, and Fjord swallows back a sound, resisting the urge to nip at Caleb’s neck just to be contrary.

Caleb’s hand slides into his hair and tugs a little and there’s nothing _show_ in the groan that bubbles up in his throat, “Easy, liebling,” he says, like he’s unaffected by this, so Fjord rocks against him, relishes in the sucked in breath, the hand that tightens in his hair.

“Wait, did you hear that?” Caleb says suddenly, the hand leaving his hair and pressing to his shoulder.

The footsteps hastily retreat.

Fjord counts to twelve before Caleb unwinds his legs and presses at his shoulder. He lets him down gently and steps back, rubbing a hand over his own face. When he drops his hand, Caleb looks perfectly fine, unflapped and unphased.

He doesn’t think he can say the same for himself.

“Nott and Caduceus are clear, we just have to keep up appearances for a while longer,” Caleb tells him quietly and wraps fingers around his wrist, tugging him back in the direction of the ballroom.

When they reenter, their mark carefully avoids looking in their direction and Jester is sitting at their table.

Caleb doesn’t let go of his wrist until they make it to the table and Fjord knows that it doesn’t go unmissed by Jester. Neither does Caleb touching his shoulder and all but pushing him down in his chair, nor the fact that Caleb also doesn’t stop touching him when he sits in his own chair.

Fjord’s got nothing to say about it though, his ears still buzzing.

“Where have you two been?” Jester sing songs, her grin far too wide, the sort of grin she uses when she asks Beau to read smutty novels out loud.

Nails drag down the back of his neck and Fjord can see Caleb’s grin out of the corner of his eye, “We were simply taking in some sights. Weren’t we, Fjord?” His tone is far too confident and teasing and Jester looks absolutely delighted.

She leans forward, elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hand, “Were the dark corners particularly interesting?”

Caleb only hums.

Fjord sees Beau this time and she’s smirking too damn much as she takes a seat next to Jester. “Your man over there was pretty flush in the face when he came scampering back in,” she says, inspecting her nails and gently buffing them against her coat. Fjord resists the urge to throw his unused fork at her.

“Gut,” Caleb truly seems unperturbed by any of this and Fjord envies that just a little.

“Your pupils are massive right now, Fjord,” Jester says, squinting at him, and he wants to bare his teeth at her. No smart remarks come to mind though. He’s got nothing.

There’s a hum at his elbow, “Are they?” Caleb sounds curious now, like someone told him there’s locked books around, “Let me see.” Fingers touch his jaw, turning him to face Caleb and Fjord blinks at him, swallows when a finger presses against his lower lip.

“Get a fucking room,” Beau grouses and Fjord doesn’t even jerk in surprise this time, simply settles back in his chair when Caleb withdraws.

Time passes and a conversation happens that Fjord misses, Caleb’s fingers scritching through the short hairs on the back of his head in a way that would put him to sleep any other time. He’s not sure how long it’s been when someone snaps in front of his face and he follows the line of the arm to Jester, who’s watching him with barely concealed amusement, “We’re leaving.”

Fjord nods and stands, easy when Caleb tugs him in, an arm sliding around his waist under his coat, fingers digging into his side. Matching it, Fjord drapes his arm across Caleb’s shoulders and leans into him just a little.

“Are you alright, liebling?” Caleb asks into his shoulder.

It takes a couple tries for him to get his mouth working to say, “I’m fine,” and it’s true, even as Fjord has to make effort into focusing on moving his feet, following the trail of Jester’s shimmering dress as she and Beau lead the way out of the chateau.

Caleb holds him back, lets the distance grow a little, “Are you sure?”

Fjord nods and squeezes Caleb’s shoulder.

They make it a few more steps before Caleb’s fingers dig into his side, the only warning he gets as their mark comes to cut them off.

“Leaving so soon, gentlemen?” His voice is nasally and grates on Fjord’s nerves in a way that make his ears press flat against his skull. He tightens his fingers around Caleb’s shoulder.

Caleb curls in front of him, just enough to be like a shield, his hand pressing to Fjord’s abdomen in a way that’s surprisingly grounding, “My husband and I are very tired. We’ve had a long day of travel.” It’s such a bald faced lie and this man can’t even call them out for it without giving himself away.

The man presses his lips together and Fjord’s worried he’s about to press, but he smiles instead, “Well, I hope you had a good time tonight. Perhaps we shall see each other again soon.”

“Perhaps,” Caleb says in his tone that means ‘no’ and presses them on forward.

Fjord muffles his laugh in Caleb’s hair, aware of the eyes still on them as they make their way to the door of the estate. The cool night air is a welcome relief and he takes several deep breaths as they descend the stairs to the stone pathway that will take them back out into the city. “We just turned that man’s whole life upside down,” he says, once they’re out of earshot of the estate.

Caleb doesn’t back away like Fjord expects him to, “I think he’ll be alright.”

Beau and Jester are waiting for them at the gates and there’s a heavy moment where the both of them look he and Caleb over before Jester grins and whoops and then turns, leading their group out of the gates and onto the cobblestone streets.

“Where are the others?” Caleb asks and still he hasn’t moved away. Fjord isn’t going to ask.

“Back at the Lavish, Nott is celebrating with supervision,” Beau says, and she’s grinning, watching Jester twirl out ahead of them.

Fjord scratches at his jaw with his free hand, “Did everything go alright on your end?”

Jester laughs, “Of course it did, Fjord,” she draws his name out _Fee-yord_ , “We’re amazing!” She crows this as she bounds back to Beau, sweeping her around suddenly in a fast sort of dance across the cobblestones. Beau doesn’t even protest it, not really, just lets herself be swept along.

Caleb laughs quietly next to him and Fjord squeezes his shoulder and they move forward.

It goes like that, the way back. Jester excited and eager, Beau happy to indulge her.

About halfway back, Jester dances closer to them and tugs Caleb away with a cackle. He doesn’t resist and Fjord releases him, feeling cold on that side, but Caleb’s laughing as Jester sweeps him into a dance now, the two of them twirling out ahead.

Beau falls back to walk with him, lips still curled in a small smile, “So, we gonna talk about this?”

Fjord clears his throat, prepares to deny everything, but his ears are still buzzing a little and he’s hard pressed to pull his eyes off Caleb, “Do we need to?” He can feel her gaze on the side of his face and turns his head to meet her eyes for a brief moment before looking back to Caleb and Jester.

She hums, “Suppose not,” she says, then, “Jester, don’t run anybody over,” and then, “At least we know why you never objected to Caleb being the leader.” And then takes off to catch up to Jester with a laugh.

There’s no point in him trying to swing out at her, she’s too fast and he’s a little too shell shocked to think about her words for the time being. Not until Caleb comes looping back to him, though not tucking in close again, he walks so their arms and hands are brushing, “Fjord, are you blushing?”

“Absolutely not,” he speaks too quickly, rubbing a hand over his cheek.

“Mhm,” Caleb doesn’t even have to use actual words for his disbelief to hang heavily and Fjord’s glad that the Lavish Chateau comes into view around that time.

Caleb waits until Beau and Jester are inside to tug on his bicep, dragging him just out of the lantern light. Fjord swallows thickly as Caleb crowds him back against the wall again, hands moving to both of his shoulders, “I’m going to kiss you and I need you to tell me now if it’s a bad idea.”

Fjord says nothing.

There’s only a brief pause before Caleb nods and closes the space, pressing up enough to slide their lips against each other’s. Fjord makes some sound, low in the back of his throat, and Caleb shushes him and then kisses him properly, zero hesitation, his hands cupping either side of Fjord’s neck.

“Caleb? You out here?” It’s Nott.

Caleb pulls away then, eyes heavy lidded, “We’re talking about this later,” he says low, then nips at Fjord’s lower lip before he slides away and heads in the direction of Nott’s voice and the door to the Lavish Chateau. Fjord counts to thirty and then back to zero before he follows after him.

When he enters the inn, the others are all shoved into a booth that’s not quite big enough, a chair pulled up for Yasha. No one notices him at first, not when he swings to the bar for another round, not until he’s approaching with the tray.

“Ay, this is what I’m talking about,” Beau says, snagging a tankard before he even gets the tray down fully, “Or not,” she says after she’s taken a drink. She passes it to Jester wordlessly and grabs another tankard.

Fjord smirks at her and squishes in next to Caleb.

“I think that went well,” Nott declares from where she’s sitting on the actual table. Her words aren’t quite slurred yet, but she is sort of swaying where she sits, tipping this way and that. Her flask isn’t present and Jester distracts her with a ring when she tries to grab a tankard of ale.

“Ja, I would have to agree,” Caleb says and he’s unbuttoning his coat, baring the long line of his neck and the fact that the shirt he’s got in is open a third of the way down his chest. Fjord takes a long drink from his tankard and avoids Beau’s gaze, instead focusing on the woodgrain of the table.

Yasha nods, “I didn’t have to punch anybody,” and actually seems a little pleased about that fact. That’s got to be progress, right?

“Yeah, and Fjord and Caleb have developed a much better ruse for the future,” Jester declares and Fjord’s face feels like it’s on fire when everyone turns in their direction.

Beau makes a considering noise, “It’s definitely better than slaves,” that’s definitely pointed and Fjord lifts an eyebrow at her.

Jester pouts, “I apologized,” she says, a little quiet.

Beau pats her hand, “I know, I know, that was low,” and Fjord feels triumph in his soul.

“Oh! That reminds me,” Nott starts digging in her pack and there’s an alarming amount of jingling as she does so, but all of them graciously pretend to not hear it. “If this is going to be a thing,” she says, face half in her pack, “You should probably - aha!” She emerges and holds something out in Caleb’s directions.

Caleb takes whatever she’s got and Fjord doesn’t get a glimpse at first, “Nott, where did you get these?” And when Caleb opens his palm, there’s two rings in it.

Nott blinks in Caleb’s direction in a way that says ‘Are you really asking me that?’

“Did you find someone grumpy at the party?” Jester asks her and Nott nods vigorously in her direction, “How grumpy were they?” She sounds a little scandalized, but a little like she’s asking for prime gossip. It’s a line he thinks only Jester could walk.

Nott squints at him suddenly and Fjord unconsciously touches his face, “What? I got something?”

“Yeah, your ugly mug,” Beau interjects and Fjord tries to kick her under the table.

Nott snorts out a wheezing laugh at that for several seconds, before she turns back to him, suddenly very serious, “I overheard some people talking about you,” she says quietly, “It wasn’t very nice, so I stole some things.”

Fjord honestly isn’t sure what to say.

“That was very good of you, Nott,” Caleb says, which means Fjord can keep his mouth shut instead of ruining the moment. Nott preens a little under the attention and turns to show Jester some of her not so ill gotten gains.

Fjord reaches out and touches one of the rings. Caleb’s fingers close around them, trapping Fjord’s fingers, “Give me a chance to make sure they aren’t magic or something someone would come looking for,” Caleb explains quietly and Fjord shrugs.

It’s not like they’re going to be pretending to be married again anytime soon.

Caleb transfers the rings to his other hand and holds them out to Jester, “We should keep those in your bag, just in case,” he tells her and she beams at him as she takes them. His now empty hand curls around Fjord’s and Fjord wonders if he’s aware he’s doing it.

Beau eyes their hands with a lifted eyebrow, but Fjord ignore her in favor of looking to Caduceus, “So how much did you overhear while wandering around?”

Caduceus takes a long drink of tea before he glances up, “Mostly just gossip.”

“That’s the interesting stuff, Caduceus!” Jester declares.

It’s about that time that Nott dozes off sitting up, tipping immediately in Jester’s direction. There’s a flurry of motion as several hands move to catch her, but she tips right into Jester’s arms, still sleeping. Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, until Jester coos, “This is the best.”

Beau snickers, “We should get her to bed,” she says quietly, and pushes herself to stand, helping Jester up as well.

There’s a beat where Fjord waits for Caleb to halt them so he can go as well, but Caleb stays quiet. Actually, Caleb’s thumb is making soft sweeps across the back of Fjord’s hand and it’s only a little distracting.

“Would you mind letting me out, Mr. Fjord, Mr. Caleb?” If Fjord’s going to be honest with himself, he’d almost forgotten Caduceus was there.

“Right, of course,” he slides out of the booth, hating that it means he’s got to let go of Caleb’s hand to do so. Caleb follows him, standing closer than necessary as Caduceus slides his frame out of the booth.

He smiles and nods at them both, “Good evening.”

Fjord watches him go faintly amused and when he looks back, Yasha has also disappeared. “Did we just get set up?” He asks, before he can stop himself, glancing to Caleb.

Caleb lifts a shoulder and starts for the stairs. He seems to realize he’s not being followed when he makes it to the base of them and turns to look back, “Are you coming?” It’s the tone that means that Fjord better follow, so he does.

The trek up the stairs is quiet and Fjord tries to focus on something else, but all he can focus on is the curl that’s come loose of Caleb’s ponytail, hanging loose around his ear and brushing his neck to the point that Caleb keeps absently brushing it back with a hand.

Caleb produces the key to his and Nott’s room and steps in first, turning as soon as Fjord is in the room, crowding him back against the door, causing it to close in the process, “Hallo,” his voice is quiet, but the sound of the lock being turned is near deafening to Fjord.

“Hello,” he replies, throat suddenly dry.

“Are you okay with this?” Caleb asks, so close that Fjord could probably count his eyelashes. They’re very long and the same color as his hair and it’s distracting. “Fjord.”

“More than okay,” he answers, immediate and sure.

Caleb squints at him and somehow his hands are at Fjord’s coat, undoing buttons, “You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”

Fjord nods, sliding his hands down to Caleb’s hips, squeezing tight, “Last time you were done up all nice like this,” he admits, without any measure of shame.

The gears in Caleb’s head are obviously turning, even as his hands push Fjord’s coat off his shoulders.

“That was months ago,” Caleb says and his fingers are undoing the laces at the top of Fjord’s shirt, “Would you have told me if it weren’t for tonight?”

Licking his lips, Fjord rucks Caleb’s shirt up, watches the roll of Caleb’s shoulders as he sheds his coat and the shirt follows shortly after, landing in a pile of fine fabric at their feet, “Maybe not. At least, not soon.”

Caleb nods.

Fjord pauses, scraping his claws gently down Caleb’s sides, “Would you?” And he doesn’t have to have Caduceus’s innate ability to notice things to see the way that Caleb shudders, to track the hot blush that’s spilling over his cheeks and down the top of his chest, the way he’s worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

He asked a question, he should wait for answer, but he doesn’t, leaning in to press his lips to Caleb’s. Caleb indulges him though, lets Fjord lick into his mouth while his long, clever fingers push their way under his shirt, slowly shoving the material up his chest.

It’s with a quiet sound that Caleb withdraws, eyes dark as he pulls Fjord’s shirt over his head, letting it join the pile forming at their feet, “I can’t say that I would have.”

There’s a brief second where Fjord doesn’t even remember the thread of their conversation, just blinks hazily at Caleb until he makes a considering sound, “Look at you,” Caleb’s voice is that low tone again, the one that’s been wrecking him all night. He’ll deny it later, probably, but a whine pulls out of him when Caleb pulls back.

“Ssshh, liebling,” Caleb wraps hands around his wrists and tugs him away from the door, Fjord goes willingly, lets himself be manipulated around until he’s on the edge of the bed and Caleb is standing between his thighs. 

He presses his face against Caleb’s stomach, rubs his cheek over the skin and scruff of hair there.

Fingers slide through his hair and scratch down the back of his neck and it’s not fair that Caleb has pinned him down like this is one night, but he’s not complaining.

“Will you let me hold you tonight, liebling?”

Fjord keens and to Caleb’s credit, he doesn’t laugh, simply eases Fjord’s head back with his palms and leans down to press a kiss to the scar bisecting his eyebrow. Caleb eases back slow, almost telegraphing his movements, but he doesn’t go too far, instead sinks down to his knees, “Lets get you comfortable.” Fjord feels simultaneously too big and too small for his skin, watching Caleb undo the laces of his boots and pull them away.

Caleb smiles up at him, something small but the corner of his eyes crinkles as he rubs his hands over Fjord’s thighs, “You’re doing so well,” his voice cuts through the dull hum in Fjord’s head, “Soon I’m going to see just how good you can be for me.”

Another sounds tears out of Fjord and Caleb squeezes his thighs in response before backing away. He watches feeling far away as Caleb strips himself down to his smalls and it takes him a few attempts to push himself to stand so he can shove his pants off. Once they’re gone, he lets Caleb nudge him back to the bed.

It takes some adjusting, the beds in the Lavish Chateau are made to hold at least two fully grown adults, but it’s still a matter of finding a position that’s comfortable.

Fjord ends up with his cheek pillowed on Caleb’s chest, an arm thrown over his middle, careful as he presses the points of his claws against Caleb’s side.

“Are you alright?” Caleb’s gentle tone startles him, he’d already been starting to lull off, the drag of Caleb’s fingers through his hair and down his neck to his back dragging him down faster than he’d anticipated. It’s too much effort to lift his head so he nods, rumbles out some response that doesn’t quite vocalize like he wants it to.

Caleb hums, a considering sound that means his gears are turning. Any other time, Fjord would probably chide him out of it, but he’s curious now. The fingers turn to the scrape of nails, across the short hairs on the back of his head, along the sides behind his ears, and then back, just circles.

Fjord dozes again, until Caleb makes that same sound again, “Are you aware that you’re purring, Fjord?”

He tucks his face more into Caleb’s chest, because he can’t stop it, doesn’t really want to, “Haven’t for a long time,” he muffles into Caleb’s skin, tusks scraping gently over it. He doesn’t miss the way Caleb inhales quietly, “Sorry.”

Caleb flicks his ear, “Don’t be sorry,” his voice isn’t quite chiding but almost, “I like it. With cats, it means they feel safe, comfortable, happy,” he carries on, a little quieter. “Is it the same for you?”

Fjord nods.

“Gut,” the fingernails give way to the calloused pads of Caleb’s fingers once more and Fjord’s losing the battle rapidly, “I’m glad you feel safe with me,” Caleb adds, voice almost too quiet to make out, even in the quiet of the room.

“Always,” Fjord mumbles, clinging to the dredges of wakefulness, not wanting to miss a second of this.

Caleb shushes him, “Sleep, liebling, we’ll have downtime now, plenty of time to spend together.”

Fjord gives in to the pull of sleep as the room darkens around them, the candlelight extinguishing all at once with a snap of Caleb’s fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> lets yell about dumb men: [twitter](http://twitter.com/red_hoodsy) and [tumblr](http://redhoods.tumblr.com).
> 
> travis and liam, please be gentle with all of us tonight. thanks.


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